


Call Me Neil

by BakaDoll



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Neglect, Dysfunctional Family, Friends to Lovers, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, So much angst, Suicide Attempt, like super angsty, pre-books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 02:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakaDoll/pseuds/BakaDoll
Summary: Andrew is 13 and his life is already a living hell. He decides to call a crisis hotline, but ends up dialing the wrong number. Instead, he is on the phone to a boy his age who calls himself Neil. They become friends and talk regularly, until one day Neil needs Andrew's help.





	Call Me Neil

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy. So many trigger warnings on one fic. God help me. This turned out WAY more angsty than it was supposed to. I'm very, very sorry.  
> I promise it has a happy end though. I can't write angst without a happy end.  
> I got this idea after reading a prompt post on tumblr but I can't find the original anymore. :(
> 
> Also, just to be clear: I don't hate Seth. But he's a dick - just like all of the characters. Look at Neil and Andrew. Dicks. I still love them. So pls don't send me any comments about how I make Seth out to be a dick. We've all read the books. He is a dick. I still support him.

Andrew was 13 and scared. He had also been eleven and scared, and nine and scared, and seven and scared. Andrew couldn't remember a time he  _ wasn't  _ scared.

There were happy moments in Andrew's life, of course, he'd probably be long dead if there weren't, but they were outweighed by bad moments and fear and pain. Andrew had been in the foster system since he could remember and by 13, he had been through four families. Every time he thought maybe this time everything would change. Maybe this family would learn to love him, despite all the anger he had inside him. But was there really a chance when he couldn't even learn to love himself? How were other people supposed to love him and be gentle and patient with him, when he couldn't do any of that to himself? When he hated that anger so much, and himself for not being able to hold it in and smashing yet another plate?

It was a never ending circle of hate and anger that Andrew didn't know how to break, so he didn't really blame anyone else for not trying. Really, all that had happened to him was his own fault. If only he was more loveable, people wouldn't have such a hard time with him.

 

He knew he was right, because his foster brother always said the same thing when he came to Andrew's room at night. And his foster father in a family before.

This night, however, Andrew was home alone but he still didn’t feel any better. He didn’t want to hate himself so much anymore. He didn’t want to ask himself how different his life could’ve been if only his real mother hadn’t given him up. 

 

His arms were bleeding. Andrew felt so weak every time he looked at his scars but he couldn’t stop. He was just waiting for the day he’d dare to cut deep enough and until then he’d just hurt himself. Was it self-punishment? Was it distraction from his inner pain? Even Andrew didn’t know. But he thought tonight might be the night he’d finally gather up enough courage to end all of his suffering and make everyone’s life a bit easier by not existing. 

Suddenly something cracked behind him, a static sound like from a broken radio, and Andrew remembered the baby monitor sitting on the toilet lid. He tore his eyes off his bleeding arms in the sink and looked over his shoulder. The baby. He forgot about the baby. He was babysitting tonight and if he killed himself, the baby would be on her own until her parents and brother, his foster family, would come back tomorrow. She had never done anything wrong. She was only a couple months old. She didn’t deserve to be left alone just because of Andrew’s selfish wish to die. Andrew listened to the soft sounds of her smacking her lips and babbling in her sleep for a couple minutes, then looked back at the mess he made of the sink. He had to clean this up. And then he had to talk to someone.

 

Every little movement of his arms and hands hurt, but Andrew kind of enjoyed the pull and pinch of the fresh cuts. It grounded him. He could concentrate on this pain and just forget about his inner pain for a while. 

The phone felt a lot heavier in his hand than it usually did. In his other hand he held a little note, wrinkled and the writing on it smudged from being folded and unfolded time and time again. One day at school a couple months ago Andrew had looked up the number to a crisis hotline on one of the library computers and wrote it down, but never called. Tonight, he did. With shaky fingers he typed the numbers in and held the phone up to his ear. Andrew didn’t even know what he’d tell them, but he supposed the people there knew what to ask and say. He felt a bit stupid, but it was also comforting to remember it was a stranger on that phone, someone who didn’t know him and his family and never would. 

After the fifth dial tone Andrew started to wonder if it always took them this long to pick up. Wasn’t a crisis hotline supposed to react quickly? Just as the sobering realisation that no one would pick up started to sink in, the phone cracked and Andrew heard a voice, soft and young, answer:   
  
“Hello?

 

And suddenly it all just burst out. Andrew hadn’t realised how long he had waited to talk to someone and it felt like such a relieve not to be silent and keep it for himself anymore. Even though he knew that person couldn’t make it  _ stop _ , they could make it hurt less just by listening.

 

“Hi. I- uh. I’ve never done this before, calling a crisis hotline I mean, but I’m in a really bad place. I need to talk to someone. Everything is going to hell, my whole life is just fucked up and there’s nothing I can do about it. I just want to end it all. If I was gone I wouldn’t have to feel like this every single fucking day and everyone around me would be better off as well. I’m nothing but a nuisance to everyone. I can’t even control my own fucking anger. Like, I’ll get angry at the smallest things and just go the fuck  _ off _ . I can’t even count the amount of plates and glasses I’ve smashed when I was in a rage. How dumb is that? I can’t even stop myself from being angry, just like a fucking toddler. I’m a fuck up, but I’m also a moron who can’t bring up the courage to just end it all. I can cut my arms bleeding, but never deep enough to make it stop. I can’t do anything right, not even killing myself.”

By the time he was done, Andrew was panting. Part from anger and part from almost forgetting to breathe while talking. It was weirdly quiet on the other end of the line and Andrew thought they just hung up on him - wouldn’t that be just fantastic? A  _ crisis hotline _ hanging up on Andrew because he was too big of a fuck up? - but then the soft voice came back to life.

  
“I- uh…” The voice stuttered and Andrew realised it sounded a lot younger than he expected people working at one of these hotlines to be, “I think you have the wrong number, but you sound really sad and I have nothing else to do, do you wanna talk to me instead?”

 

***

 

It was 2am and Alex was sitting on the car’s rooftop, an old grey Ford that would probably break down soon after getting them from Florida to Alabama, staring into the distance. His mother would be angry with him the next morning when she found out he didn’t sleep again. At the thought, Alex could feel his cheek sting where she hit him last time he didn’t sleep. 

He knew it was careless, he needed to be well-rested and they didn’t always get to sleep at night so he should be grateful. And, really, he would rather be sleeping than be left alone with his thoughts, but it just wasn’t going to happen tonight. 

A sound startled him and Alex almost fell off the roof from how quickly he turned around to check where the sound was coming from. He realised too late he might be waking his mother up, who was sleeping inside the car, and he froze, but luckily she didn’t seem to have noticed. The sound, however was still there, and it took him several seconds to realise it was a melody, and a couple more seconds to realise it was his phone ringing.

He had never been called on this phone. They just got it two days ago and the only person ever calling him was his mother anyway, when they lost each other running from someone. No one else was  _ supposed _ to be calling him, because no one had this number. Except…

 

Alex slowly pulled the phone from his jeans’ pocket and stared at the display. It was way too bright in the dark and hurt his eyes, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the californian area code. He didn’t recognise this number. It couldn’t be his father or one of his minions. Or could it?

If his mother knew, she would probably beat Alex to death for being careless, but for some reason he picked up the call. 

 

“Hello?” He asked carefully. He hoped to God it wouldn’t be his father’s chilling voice greeting him back.

It wasn’t. Instead, it was a boy’s voice, probably not much older than himself and without any preamble he started to talk and talk and talk. Alex was taken by surprise so much, he couldn't even stop him or think about how he got this number. He waited and listened until the boy was done, and with each moment he felt worse. He never understood why people wanted to kill themselves, every day of Alex’s life consisted of the deep, urgent desire  _ not _ to die, but he couldn’t help but feel bad for this boy. No one deserved to feel like this.

When he stopped, Alex didn’t know what to say. He hoped for words to come to him, something to make that boy feel better, but all that came to his mind was a silly, stuttered offer:

 

“I- uh… I think you have the wrong number, but you sound really sad and I have nothing else to do, do you wanna talk to me instead?”

 

***

 

Andrew took the phone from his ear and stared at the number on the display, then at the piece of paper in his hand.

He was an idiot.

Instead of a 7 he had typed a 4 somewhere in the middle and now he wasn’t connected to a crisis hotline but a random boy from fuck knows where. He was so close to just hanging up and acting like this never happened, but the relief and the good feeling that came with talking kept him from doing so. It was a bit like talking to someone on a crisis hotline, wasn’t it? It was still someone he didn’t know and who would never know him, someone who didn’t know anything about Andrew and his problems, and someone who offered to listen and to help. So really, what would be the difference? Andrew just wanted someone to  _ listen. _

 

“Hello? Are you still there?” The boy asked, his voice only faintly audible to Andrew.

 

“Okay.” Andrew eventually said into the phone.

 

“Okay.” The boy replied. Then they were silent.

 

**

 

“So...Uh. What’s your name?” Alex didn’t know what to say, it wasn’t like he had a lot of practice in talking to people since him and his mother usually tried to avoid them at all cost. People meant witnesses and witnesses meant danger of being found. But this was different. Right? The boy on the other phone didn’t see him and didn’t know who or where he was. It was safe.

Right?

 

“Andrew.” Andrew. Okay. So now Alex had a name to the voice, but what now?

 

“How about you?” Oh.

 

Oh. Fuck. Alex really didn’t think this through, did he? Of course Andrew would want to know his name as well, but there was no way he could tell him the truth.

Well, the ‘truth’. Alex technically wasn’t the truth either, but the closest to the truth as it got at the moment. Maybe next week or next month that would change. Maybe tomorrow it would change.

  
“Hello?”

 

“Oh, sorry. My name is, uh..Neil. It’s Neil.”

 

***

 

This Neil-guy was a bit strange, but a good listener and before he knew it, Andrew was actually enjoying talking to him. Not really  _ what _ they were talking about, or more like what Andrew was talking about, but just the fact that they  _ were  _ talking. It felt good to have someone listen to him. Occasionally, Neil would make a scandalised sound or gasp softly, and hearing someone react like that to his story instead of telling Andrew it was his own fault… It was new. But good. The tiny part in Andrew’s brain that told him it wasn’t his fault and demanded to be heard, but that Andrew usually chose to ignore because ignorance was easier than fighting, relished in having someone on its side. 

 

“Shit, Andrew. That’s horrible.” Neil sounded shaken and Andrew’s stomach clenched, then unclenched.

 

“I don’t want your pity,” he retorted, sharper than intended. A reflex to shield himself from emotions.

 

“And I’m not giving you any,” Neil didn’t sound like he minded Andrew’s sharp tone, “I’m saying it how it is, I’m not pitying you. What you told me is fucked up and everyone saying it’s your own fault is a dickhead.”

 

“ _ I’m _ saying it’s my own fault.”

 

“Everyone, Andrew. Everyone.”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

Neil chuckled and Andrew felt himself grin. It was such a foreign feeling, Andrew touched the corners of his mouth, lifted just the tiniest bit to form a faint grin, with his fingertips, to make sure it was really there.

Suddenly, Andrew realised it was already early morning. They had been talking for so long and he hadn’t even noticed. His foster parents would probably kill him when they received the next phone bill.

“I have to hang up,” he told Neil. A sobering feeling of dread settled in his stomach when Andrew said the words. He didn’t want to hang up, he wanted to keep talking to Neil but he knew he couldn’t. Of course, now that he found someone who was willing to listen, he’d lose them right away again.

 

“Okay,” Neil said.

Both boys stayed quiet for a couple seconds, not really knowing how to end this unsuspected call.

“Hey, Andrew,” Neil said eventually.

 

“Yeah?”   
  
“I’ve got a lot of time on my hands, I, uh, travel a lot. So, if you ever need someone to talk again just give me a call, okay?”

 

Dread was replaced by a warm, bubbling feeling in his stomach that Andrew couldn’t really understand, so he decided to ignore it. But it was still a nice feeling.

 

“Okay.” He said.

 

“Okay.” Neil said.

 

“Bye,” before Neil could even answer, Andrew ended the call and threw the phone onto his mattress, right next to his feet. He stared at it for a while, it could’ve been a minute or an hour, Andrew didn’t know, before he buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath.

 

He didn’t really know what happened tonight, but he was glad it did.

 

***

 

Before he could say his goodbye, Andrew hung up. The phone in is hands felt warm from his skin and a lot lighter than before he took the call. 

He wondered if this was what it felt like to make friends. Talking to someone on the phone for hours without really noticing how much time had gone by. The sun was already rising and coloured the sky a beautiful red and orange that put a smile on his lips.

 

Suddenly, a car door smashed and the Ford beneath him shook.

 

“Nathaniel, who on bloody earth are you talking to?”

 

Nathaniel swirled around to stare at his mother. He had thought she was still sleeping.

  
“No one,” he lied, “Just myself. I couldn’t sleep.”

 

Mary Wesninski stared her son down, scepticism evident on her pretty face. Her dark hair framed her round face and her thick lashes threw a shadow over her doubtful eyes. She was the complete opposite of Nathaniel with his auburn curls, his pale skin and his ice blue eyes. And yet, she was still his mother.

“Get in the car, we’re leaving.” Nathaniel felt like he was falling. He was so glad she’d let it go - he had already been expecting to be beaten within an inch of his life.

 

“Yes, Mummy,” he slid off the Ford’s roof and into the passenger seat instead, slamming the door so it would close properly.

 

“Are you hungry? We will try to find somewhere to get breakfast on our way to Alabama,” Mary said with her prominent London accent that made her sound noble even when she was cursing like a sailor. Usually she’d adjust her accent to wherever they were. But usually she wouldn’t call her son by his birth name either. She only let her real accent and his real name slip when they were alone. Thanks to growing up with her by his side in an american environment, Nathaniel’s own accent was a bastard mix of british and american phrases and pronunciation. He hated to hear himself talk with it, but at the same time it felt strangely like home. Not that he ever really had anything he would call  _ home _ .

 

“Yes, Mummy,” Nathaniel said again. He leaned his head against the cold window of the car and stared at the morning sky, his thoughts still somewhere in California with a 13 year old, suicidal boy he never met.

 

***

 

Andrew was curled into himself on his rumpled sheets. He felt dirty and disgusting and his whole body was aching while his mind was numb. Even moving just one finger seemed like too big of a task. He still heard the footsteps of his foster brother in the hallway, where he was walking from the bathroom to his bedroom with his usual swagger, not a hint of regret or hurt in his light steps, as if he hadn’t just left Andrew alone and dirty, shattered to pieces once again. 

Andrew was long past crying. He just lay there and waited until his body and mind were ready to move again, and tried to ignore the pictures playing in his head over and over again. He didn’t need to relive the past hour, once was more than enough.

 

The flash of a light on his bedside table caught Andrew’s attention. It took him way too long to realise it was his cheap mobile phone flashing up with a text. Who texted Andrew at this time he didn’t know. Really, no one ever texted Andrew, no matter the time of day, except maybe his foster family. 

Curious, he lifted his head and one arm, reached for the phone and unlocked the screen. Unknown number.

Andrew’s thumb hovered over the button until the screen almost locked automatically again, then he pressed  _ read _ .

 

>>Hi Andrew. I have a new number. Just in case you wanna talk again. - Neil<<

 

***

 

Chris’ phone had been still for a full week. And then another. And then he got a new one because he got a new name, too. And with that new phone, he got a new number, too. He didn’t have any contacts in that phone, but over the past two weeks he had checked his call history so many times, just to be sure it hadn’t just been a dream, he knew Andrew’s phone number by heart. So he sent him a text, to make sure he would call the right number if he wanted to call again. Chris hoped he did.

Just mere seconds later the phone in his hand vibrated, flashing Andrew’s number on the screen. Chris almost dropped it because he was so surprised, then threw a glance out of the motel room’s window, but he couldn’t spot his mother anywhere. She had gone to get some food and first aid supplies. It could be a while until she would be back. 

Chris raised his hand with the phone in it and took the call.

 

“Hi, Andrew,” Neil said.

 

Andrew stayed silent.

 

“Andrew?” Neil sat at the window, careful to be mostly hidden by the curtain. Not just so he wouldn’t be seen by strangers and potential accomplices of his father, but also to make sure he would see his mother when she came back, before she’d spot him on his phone.

 

“Tell me something,” Andrew said eventually. He sounded odd, his voice pressed and raw. Neil didn’t have a good feeling about this.

  
“What?” He asked.

 

“Anything.” Andrew said in response.

 

What could he possibly tell Andrew? He couldn’t just tell him about his day, about how him and his mother went to pick up their new fake IDs today. About how they got new phones and burned their old ones on an empty parking lot on the highway. 

 

“I had the worst breakfast today.” Wow. Well done, Neil. That must have been the worst thing ever he could’ve said.

But, to Neil’s surprise, after a short pause there was a quiet chuckle from Andrew.

 

“What did you have?” He asked.

 

“Bacon and eggs. But the eggs were undercooked and the bacon burnt. It was disgusting.”

 

“It sounds disgusting.”

 

“Andrew?”

 

“Mh?”

 

“Do you wanna talk about why you’re calling?”

Andrew went quiet again and Neil thought he might have fucked up. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. There was probably a reason why Andrew talked to him about his breakfast.

 

“No.” Andrew said eventually, and Neil was glad he didn’t just hang up.

 

“Okay,” Neil replied, “You wanna hear about my lunch, too?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Okay. That was disgusting, too, so be prepared…”

 

***

 

Andrew lay in his bed, his face half buried in his pillow and his mobile phone pressed to his ear. He stared into the empty darkness and focused on Neil’s voice telling him about the meals he had today and how he went to Target to get a new pair of jeans because his ripped. 

Just listening to someone rambling about unimportant things was somehow calming and Andrew closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, then another one, and opened his eyes again. The darkness was still there, but his body felt a bit lighter than before. 

There was a short pause when Neil finished telling him about a cat he saw on the street today and Andrew closed his eyes again. This time, to brace himself.

 

“My foster brother came to my room again.”

 

The silence that fell over them now was completely different than before when Neil was thinking about another story to tell. It was uncomfortable and Andrew could practically hear Neil struggle for words. It wasn’t fair, but he almost enjoyed the fact that what happened to him made someone else uncomfortable. His foster brother didn’t care. Usually it was just Andrew who was hurt.

 

“Is that why you’re calling?”

  
“Yes.”

 

There was a short silence again before Neil spoke up again.

 

“Tonight?” His voice was quiet and careful. Trying not to ask something that would make Andrew hang up.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

  
“What for?”   
  


“That you’re hurting. You don’t deserve it.”

 

Suddenly there was an anger building up inside Andrew’s chest. He didn’t even know why and where it was coming from, and why it was directed at Neil, but he couldn’t hold it in, so he asked with venom in his voice:   
  
“How do you know what I deserve and what not? You don’t know me.”

 

“No. You’re right, I don’t. But I do know that no one deserves this. And you wouldn’t be calling me if you weren’t hurting.”

 

Andrew knew that Neil was right, but he didn’t like it. Still, he didn’t hang up.

Instead of acknowledging Neil’s statement, Andrew decided to steer away to a saver topic. One that didn’t involve so many emotions.

“You got a new phone?”

For a while Neil stayed silent, then he just answered with a short: “Yes.”

 

“Have I told you about our new car yet?” Neil asked.

 

“No,” Andrew rolled onto his other side and stared at the white wall, tinted a dark gray by the darkness instead.

 

“It’s nothing fancy, but better than the one we had before…”

 

***

 

It was Andrew’s 15th birthday and instead of a cake and presents, his foster mother put a letter in front of him at the breakfast table. Andrew stopped his spoonful of cereals mid-air, looked at the opened envelope and then up at his foster mother. She couldn’t look him in the eyes and fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. She looked guilty.

 

“What’s this?” Andrew asked and lowered his spoon back into the bowl without eating it. She stammered, looked at his foster father, then at Andrew for barely a second before she looked down at her feet. Definitely guilty. Andrew already knew what it was. 

He looked at his foster feather instead. He had the baby, now a toddler, on his lap and fed her yoghurt. He didn’t look guilty at all. If anything, he looked relieved.

“They found a different family for you,” his foster father said. Andrew wasn’t surprised, but he still felt a sting in his chest. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the first time this happened though.

“Did they?” Andrew asked, careful to keep his voice even and uninterested. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of sounding upset.

“Look, we know it’s a shit timing, with it being your birthday and everything, but the letter arrived this morning and they’re gonna pick you up tonight-”

“Don’t worry.” Andrew got off his chair before his foster father could finish his sentence, “It’s not like today would’ve been any different than any other day.”

“Andrew-”

“I said  _ don’t worry _ .” 

Andrew kicked the table and the baby shrieked as some of her yoghurt spilled. Her father looked at Andrew condemning, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t anything to Andrew anymore, just like he had always been nothing to them. A heavy silence hung over the room. The baby’s mother still couldn’t look at Andrew. Andrew scoffed.

“Fuck this. I’m gonna pack my bags.” With his hands stuffed into his jeans’ pockets, Andrew turned and made his way to his room. No one tried to hold him back. The baby’s mother took his unfinished bowl of cereal and poured it out.

 

***

 

“They just threw you out?!” Neil kicked the malfunctioning snack machine that just ate his £3 without giving him the chocolate bar he wanted. As if in surrender, the machine threw two bars out. “That’s  _ bullshit _ , what the fuck.”

 

“I don’t care.” Neil could hear the lie through the phone. “At least I’ll get away from my shitbag of a foster brother.”

 

“True.” Neil nodded, even though Andrew couldn’t see it. 

Almost two years after Andrew’s accidental call to Neil they were still talking regularly. Andrew would call Neil whenever he needed someone to talk, and sometimes just when he was bored or felt like it. And Neil appreciated to have someone else to talk to than his mother. Even though Andrew knew nothing about him, and never would, he was the closest thing to a friend Neil ever had. Sometimes Neil felt bad about all the lies he told Andrew - or more like all the truths he didn’t tell him - but he consoled himself with the thought that it would be better for both him and Andrew when Andrew didn’t know who Neil really was.

“So what now? Are they gonna put you in a children’s home?”

 

“Apparently they found a new family.”

 

“Oh.”

Neil didn’t know how he felt about that. With all the shit Andrew went through with his past foster families, Neil didn’t know if the next one would be any better. But he knew Andrew had that hope. He had told him one night when he was 14 and so close to cutting his wrists deep enough to bleed out that Neil considered calling an ambulance to his home, but he didn’t know his address. Luckily, he had been able to talk Andrew out of it.

So instead of voicing his doubts, Neil said:

“Sounds good. Better than a children’s home. Do you know where?”

 

“Still in California. Oakland or something.” Rustling told Neil that Andrew was packing his belongings into bags. It reminded him of when he had to pack his bag back in Baltimore. He shook his head to get rid of the memory and took a big bite of his chocolate bar before asking, his mouth still full:   
  


“And the family? Do you know anything about them?”

 

“No. I didn’t open the letter, just saw the address on it when they gave it to me. Are you speaking with your mouth full?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You disgust me.”

 

“Fuck off, Andrew.”

 

Andrew snorted and Neil grinned. Getting just the tiniest of laughs out of Andrew always felt like a victory.

“Are you gonna call when you’re at the new place?” Neil asked eventually.

 

“Aren’t you in England at the moment?” Andrew asked.

 

“Yeah, why?” Neil crumpled the chocolate wrapping and threw it in a bin he passed on his way.

 

“It’s gonna be like 3 or 4 am for you when I’m there.”

 

“So? Since when do we care about the time?” Andrew was quiet for a while. Neil listened to him zipping his bags shut.

 

“Fine,” he said eventually.

 

“Great. Talk to you later, Andrew, I gotta hang up now.”

Neil pocketed his phone and swiped his Oyster Card over the reader, skipping down the stairs to vanish in the masses and jump on the tube just before the doors closed. When he turned and looked out the window as the tube slowly started its way, he smiled and waved at the man who had been following him since he got his chocolate bars.

 

***

 

Nathaniel was lounging on his bed, his sheets rumpled at the foot and three pillows in his back. It had been months since he last slept in a real bed, until last week. Five days ago, him and his mother arrived in London and they had been staying at his uncle Stuart’s house since then. It was a fancy, pompous house - well, for english standards - in Clapham, just like his uncle liked it. Despite being a mob boss, he didn’t think much of keeping a low profile. 

Their time here was limited though. For a start, his mother didn’t like staying at one place for too long. Also, because she just wanted to check in with her family and talk strategy with her brother. Nathaniel knew that Stuart tried to talk her into staying, offering his protection to her and his nephew, but he also knew she wouldn’t agree. Why, Nathaniel wouldn’t understand, but he had been on the run for too long to argue with it - he didn’t like staying at one place for long either. It made him feel caged and vulnerable. 

 

Mary, Stuart and Charles - a man Nathaniel had never met before but who was his mother’s cousin, apparently - were sitting in the living room, discussing Mary’s and Nathaniel’s next steps. Nathaniel wasn’t eager to mingle with his family, he didn’t like any of them anyway - including his mother. So instead he stayed in his room and waited for his phone to ring.

At one point he had to go downstairs to eat dinner, but as soon as it wasn’t rude to leave he headed upstairs again and curled up in his pillow fortress.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but he woke up to his phone ringing on his night stand hours later. Nathaniel blinked his eyes open and threw a glance at the digital watch on his nightstand. 4.34am. 

Without lifting his head from his pillows he felt for his phone. Squinting at the bright screen he checked the number, then took the call and pressed the phone to his ear.

 

“‘ndrew?” Neil slurred, voice still sleep rough.

 

“Did I wake you up?”   
  


“Nah.” He yawned.

 

“Liar. And a bad one at that.”

 

“I’ll have you know, I’m a fantastic liar.” Neil sighed and groaned as he stretched, then grunted like he was doing something unbelievably exhausting when really, he was only raising himself up a bit. With a final grunt he fell back into his pillows, only this time sitting up instead of lying down.

It was quiet for a couple seconds, before Andrew, audibly unimpressed, asked:

 

“Are you done?”

 

“Yes,” Neil replied.

 

“Great.”

  
“Okay. Go on, then. Tell me about your new family.” Neil rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands to wake himself up a bit more. He wanted to be awake enough to actually remember what Andrew told him.

 

“They’re okay, I guess.” Neil could basically hear the shrug in Andrew’s voice and rolled his eyes a bit, but at the same time a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

“Cass is my new foster mother and she’s got a son, Drake, who seems alright. It’s just the two of them. Cass made chocolate cake, apparently she heard it’s my birthday today.”

 

“It’s your birthday?” Neil gasped and suddenly he was wide awake, “Why didn’t you say so?”

 

“What does it matter? You’d sent me a present if you knew?” Andrew joked.

 

“Oh, shut up. Happy birthday, you idiot.”

 

“Fuck off, Neil.”

 

“You’re welcome. So you like Cass and Drake?”

 

“They’re not a complete waste of time, I guess.” After two years, Neil knew this meant Andrew liked them. He usually told Neil he wasn't as much of a waste of time as other people, too. 

Neil was happy for Andrew, maybe this time he was actually lucky with his family. This Cass-woman seemed to make an effort at least, that's more than could be said about Andrew's former foster family. 

 

“And the son?” He asked. Neil knew that chances of Drake being like Andrew's last foster brother were slim, but he couldn't help but be wary. He didn't want Andrew to get hurt again, especially not in a degrading way like that. He'd never forget the night a year ago when he thought Andrew was actually going to kill himself. 

 

“He's older than me, but he seems alright. He was trying to be friendly and said if I ever needed anything I should talk to him. I don't like when people try to get chummy like that.”

 

“At least they're both making an effort.”

 

“I guess.”

 

Neil spent two hours on the phone with Andrew, and he told him about the house, his new room, Oakland and about Cass and Drake, and Neil really started to think that, maybe, this time it would turn out alright. 

 

***

 

Two months. That's how long Jonas hadn't heard anything from Andrew. They left London long ago and were now in Stuttgart, Germany.

He started to worry that maybe Andrew decided not to call that one night where he really should've, and now Jonas would never hear from him again, but never be certain he really wasn’t there anymore either. 

He couldn't help but stare at his phone for too long sometimes and he knew his mother was getting suspicious. Really, it was a miracle he had been able to keep this a secret from her this long as it was, but he couldn't help it. He had this silent hope inside himself that, if only he stared long enough, Andrew's number would flash up on the screen. 

It never did. 

 

Someone smacked Jonas's shoulder and he startled, jerking his head up to look at the culprit. 

He was met with a bright, sly grin. 

 

“Waiting for your girlfriend to text you, or why are you staring at your phone like that instead of listening to Herr Schröder’s math lesson?”

 

“No. Just waiting for a friend to get back to me,” Jonas mumbled, imitating the accent of an 18 year old German student as well as he could. 

His new identity, Jonas Schneider, was a normal 18 year old student, born and raised in Germany. He was rather quiet and shy, but somehow he still managed to attract the attention of the boy sitting next to him. Maybe because they were both new to the class. Maybe because he was the opposite of his energetic personality. Opposites attract, as they say. 

Whatever the reason, Jonas didn't and did like the attention at the same time. He didn't, because he wasn't supposed to catch anyone's attention, let alone make friends. He did, however, because that boy who called Jonas his friend after just a couple of weeks was cheerful enough for both of them and easy to talk to. He never asked questions he wasn't supposed to and let the topic drop quickly whenever he noticed Jonas didn't want to talk about it. 

 

“A friend, huh?” 

 

“Yes. A friend.”

 

“Jonas, Nicholas, ist euch langweilig?”

 

Both boys dropped their heads when their teacher called them out and shook their heads. Jonas with an expression like a kicked dog and Nicky with a small, apologetic grin. 

 

“Nein, Herr Schröder. We're sorry,” Nicky apologised. 

Even before their teacher could go back to his lesson, Jonas's phone started to vibrate in his hands. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the number. 

He saw the angry stare of his teacher when he looked up, but still jumped off his seat. 

 

“Jonas!” 

 

“Ich- Kann ich-- Meine Oma ist krank, kann ich-” He stumbled over his words, desperately trying to find an excuse to leave the room, but as soon as he mentioned his 'sick grandmother’, Herr Schröder’s face turned soft. 

 

“Oh. Natürlich, geh ruhig.”

 

“Danke,” Jonas was already halfway out of the room when he said his thanks and threw the door shut behind himself. The second the lock clicked, he took the call. 

 

“Andrew!” He tried not to sound as worried as he felt, but failed miserably. 

 

“Are you being chased by criminals or why do you sound so panicked?” Andrew asked in lieu of a greeting. His voice was so bored and casual, Neil was relieved and angry at the same time. 

 

“No.” He just said. Andrew was quiet for a few seconds. 

 

“You're angry,” he realised.

 

“No.” Neil lied. 

 

“Again. You're a horrible liar.”

 

“Fuck you, Andrew.” Neil was close to ending the call. Instead he threw the door of the school building open with more force than necessary as he stepped out onto the school yard. 

 

“Why are you angry?” Neil bit his tongue. He didn't want to answer, he was angry at Andrew for not calling him in so long and for not realising what was wrong, but he decided it would be childish to be angry and not say anything.

 

“It’s been two months since you called last. I thought you were dead. You’ve never been silent this long since forever now. I thought you might be six feet under now and I’d never know, because I’m just the strange boy in your phone no one knows about, so who would tell me?”

The following silence was an uncomfortable one. Neil didn’t know whether Andrew was thinking about his words, was annoyed by him or just hung up halfway through Neil’s rant. A quick check of his phone display told him that the latter one at least wasn’t the case. And he didn’t really care if Andrew was annoyed - Neil had every fucking right to be angry. 

When Neil already thought Andrew was just going to give him the silent treatment, Andrew’s voice came through the phone, steady, but quiet and wondering:

 

“You were worried.”

 

Did Andrew just- What on fucking earth did he think? Did he genuinely believe Neil wouldn’t care?

 

“ _ Of course _ I was worried, you absolute fucking shithead!”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I can’t believe you really thought I wouldn’t be worried about you. We’ve been friends for two years!”

 

“Friends.”

 

Neil’s stomach clenched and his heart felt heavy. Didn’t Andrew consider them friends? Was he really just the strange boy in his phone to him and nothing else? Did he spend the past two years of his life worrying and risking one hell of a beating from his mother for someone who considered him nothing but a stranger?

“Yes. Friends. I thought that was clear. And I thought we both see it that way - but apparently I was wrong.” The defeat in Neil’s voice was clear even to himself. The only person he ever considered a friend didn’t see him that way. That was just the luck of Nathaniel Wesninski, wasn’t it? 

With a sigh, Neil fell back against a tree, squitining up into the sky, the back of his head resting against the bark as he slid down to sit. He wanted to leave - this school, this place, this town, for now, forever. Because that was the only thing he was good at - running away. Running from his problems. Running from people. 

 

“No. You’re right. I should’ve called.” It wasn’t like Andrew to sound upset, not about these things. It made Neil feel even sicker, being the one to upset him. 

 

“No. It’s alright. There’s no reason to call a stranger if you don’t want to. It’s alright. I’m fine.” It wasn’t. He wasn’t.

 

“Stop being a fucking terrible liar, Neil. You’re not.”

 

“I’m not what?”

 

“Fine. Or a stranger.”

 

There was nothing Neil could add to that. Andrew was right, he wasn’t fine, but it did feel a lot like he was a stranger to Andrew. Neil thought about going to the flat him and his mother were living at, Nicky would probably grab his stuff for him. If not, Neil wouldn't care. But then he'd have to explain to his mother why he skipped classes when he was supposed to keep a low profile. 

 

Nicky. 

Maybe he could convince Nicky to skip the remaining classes with him and go somewhere, anywhere. Nicky was a pleasant person to be around, he would probably be able to take the edge off Neil. It probably wouldn't be too hard, too. Nicky didn't like school all that much. Maybe if he'd suggest to pay Nicky's host brother Erik a visit at his uni Nicky would agree. Neil knew he adored Erik - maybe even a bit more than he should, but Nicky seemed pretty oblivious about it and Neil wasn't about to say anything to him. 

 

“Neil?”

 

Neil took a deep breath when he heard Andrew's voice. He'd definitely ask Nicky to skip with him. 

 

“Yes?”

 

“You're not a stranger. You think I'd tell all these things I tell you to just anyone? I've went through six shrinks and never told any of them about them, because they were dickheads I wouldn't trust with my secrets even if my life depended on it. So stop acting like a fucking twelve year old.”

 

“...is that an apology?”

 

“No.”

 

“I'll take it as one.”

 

“Do whatever the fuck you want.”

 

A soft smile returned to Neil's lips. “Apology accepted.”

Andrew huffed annoyed, but didn't disagree. The ring of the bell startled Neil a bit and he threw a look at his old wrist watch to check the time and realised how long him and Andrew had been talking already. 

 

“Are you in school?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Are you skipping class?”

 

“Sort of. The teacher let me leave to take the call about my ‘sick granny’.”

 

“You should go back to class.”

 

“I should. Now tell me why you called.”

 

Andrew told him about his past two months. Cass and Drake seemed like really nice people. They did a lot with Andrew, Cass made breakfast every morning for ‘her boys’ as she called Andrew and Drake, Drake had introduced Andrew to his friends and Cass made sure he went to school every morning. It was the first time Andrew called Neil to tell him about all the good things that were happening.

A warm feeling spread in Neil’s chest and he couldn’t help but smile. He was genuinely happy for Andrew. He deserved good things to happen to him.

 

“The only downside is that the lock on the bathroom door is broken and Drake doesn’t fucking know how to knock.” Andrew huffed in fake annoyance. Neil laughed.

 

***

 

The happiness lasted another three months. After their argument Andrew started to call more regularly again. He told Neil about his days with Cass and Drake, about school, about his life that, finally, seemed to find a normal track.

 

Three months.

 

Then Andrew called and told him Drake tried to touch him. 

 

They had been home alone, watching the house while Cass was on Andrew’s school’s parents’ night. It was supposed to be a lazy night in, with a movie and popcorn and beer that Drake let Andrew drink when Cass wasn’t watching. They had been halfway through the movie, sitting close enough for their thighs to touch but Andrew hadn’t thought anything of it. Until Drake put his hand on Andrew’s thigh. Andrew swatted it away, uncomfortable but hiding it behind an annoyed grunt and a “stop it, Drake.”

But Drake didn’t stop. He put his hand back, higher this time, grinning, and saying how they didn’t have to tell Cass anything about it. How they could be such good brothers. So much closer.

Andrew got up and told Drake to fuck off.

Neil told Andrew to get away from there.

Andrew denied.

 

“Maybe I sent some wrong signals.”

 

“Andrew,  _ no _ , get out there. Tell someone. Don’t let him--”

 

“ _ I won’t,” _ Andrew spat, “Drake isn’t like that. I’ll talk to him about it.” Then he hung up.

 

But Drake was exactly  _ like that _ .

 

Two days later he came to Andrew’s room at night. Left him shattered and broken and hurting, worse than ever before because this time, this time Andrew really had thought he found his family, his home. But he was disappointed yet again. Andrew almost killed himself that night. 

It took everything Neil had to talk him out of it, Neil begged and learned that ‘please’ just made Andrew even angrier. Neil was close to tears by the time he made Andrew put the knife away. They stayed on the phone all night until Neil heard nothing but Andrew’s even breathing. He fell asleep. Finally. Neil did not sleep that night. He was close to calling his uncle, to beg him to send someone to Andrew and get him out of there. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. Stuart would probably do it, if Neil only begged enough. He had a soft spot for his nephew. But he feared the wrath of his mother when she found out about Andrew. And he didn’t want Andrew to get involved in all of the shit going down in his own life. If Stuart saved Andrew, it would just drag him down into the dark world Neil was living in and he might not make it out alive.

But Andrew lost all of his will to fight that night. He ignored all of Neil’s pleas to tell someone and get out. Andrew loved Cass and, despite what he did to him, he loved Drake. And he didn’t want to give them up. He was willing to live with the pain if only it gave him a family that didn’t hate him for who he was.

 

***

 

Shortly after Andrew’s sixteenth birthday he called Neil.

 

“I have a brother,” were the first words he said. Neil frowned. 

 

“I know,” he said.

 

“No. You don’t understand.” Andrew’s voice shook and Neil sat up straight in his motel bed. “I have a brother. A twin. There’s someone walking around with my face. And a cousin, an aunt, an uncle. And a mother.”

 

“Wait, wait, what? How- When--?”

 

“Pig Higgins found my brother by accident. He thought it was me. But turns out it’s just my fucking twin. Apparently he’s called Aaron. He called me today.”

 

“Oh my God,” Neil stared at the wall, his mouth hanging open. This was the last thing he had ever expected. Andrew found his biological family. “When are you going to meet them?”

 

“I told him to fuck off.”

 

“What?!” Neil threw his hand over his mouth after all but shouting into the phone. He glanced at the window, but it was quiet outside, so he let his hand sink again. “Why would you do that?”

 

“I’m done with that family bullshit. I don’t care if he’s my actual brother. I don’t want to meet any of them. Especially not my mother.” Neil understood Andrew. After all, it was her fault he went through all of that shit because she gave him up. But maybe she had had a good reason to. Maybe she and Aaron and that cousin, uncle, aunt could make Andrew’s life anything but a living hell. 

 

“I think you should give them a chance,” he said calmly. Andrew grunted unimpressed.

 

“No.”

 

“Fine.” Neil wouldn’t make him if Andrew didn’t want to. It was his choice.

 

***

 

Andrew did end up meeting his brother after all. When he called Neil afterwards Neil wasn’t sure if it ended good or bad at first, but Andrew seemed quite okay with his twin. It was weird, he said, to have someone sitting in front of you who was looking exactly like yourself but not quite at the same time. After a couple of weeks Andrew met his biological mother Tilda and his uncle and aunt Luther and Maria, too. He didn’t like either of them. His mother turned out to be a drunk and a junkie, and it took Andrew two hours to realise Aaron didn’t like to fight but it was his mother who let the bruises on his face bloom. She also showed little to no interest in Andrew. 

His uncle and aunt were fanatic baptists who were obsessed with ‘saving’ him. Andrew told them he didn’t need saving. They didn’t seem to care about his opinion.

When he asked Aaron about their cousin Aaron stammered, then told him reluctantly about Nicholas - Nicky - who was living in Germany after going through conversion therapy for being gay. Andrew liked his uncle and aunt even less.

 

“They sound like jerks. I’m sorry,” Neil said.

 

“Don’t be. I didn’t expect anything else, after all they’re my family.” Andrew sounded cold and disinterested when he said this and Neil believed him. He was still sorry.

Apparently his cousin came to the US to meet him when he heard about Andrew and Andrew, if unwillingly, agreed to meet him. Nicky was a cheerful person and did his best to make Andrew feel welcome. Andrew didn’t like him one bit. He liked him even less when he decided to leave his better life and boyfriend in Germany behind to stay in the US, buy a house in Columbia and take care of his cousins. 

 

“How dumb,” he told Neil, “What an idiot. Why would he do that? He doesn’t even know me and I don’t need his charity.”

 

Nicky proceeded to get himself and his cousins jobs at a club called “Eden’s Twilight”. Aaron and Andrew weren’t even legal yet, but they still hired them. Three weeks later Tilda died in a car crash. Neil knew it wasn’t an accident but the police didn’t.

 

And suddenly Andrew didn’t call Neil anymore.

 

***

 

It was four weeks since Andrew’s last call. Stephan was worried, it had been a long time since Andrew hadn’t called at least once every two weeks. He kept checking his phone, but not excessively enough for his mother to catch on. They were in the US again for now and not too far from California. The urge to somehow make his mother go to California was huge and he was sure he’d be able to make up some excuse why it would be good, but he decided against it. There’d be no reason to anyway. He couldn’t just go look for Andrew, that would go against everything he promised himself. No matter how much he wanted to.

 

They stopped at a tiny highway motel near Phoenix, Arizona, at 2am. The old lady at the reception merely raised an eyebrow when Mary requested one bedroom for the both of them, then booked them in and took the payment in cash. Despite his worries, Stephan fell asleep quickly, his mother’s back pressed up against his own and a gun beneath his pillow. 

 

It was his turn to get them breakfast the next morning. He took the opportunity to walk for a while, instead of going to the gas station half a mile away. He managed to find a small shop and bought a couple of bagels, cheese and a bit of fruit. And a coffee for himself for his way back. Stephan made it halfway through the coffee when his phone rang. He frantically searched for it in his pocket, thinking it was his mother but when he checked the number it was one he didn’t know. Stephan stopped dead in his tracks and his heart beat harder until he could feel it in his throat. This wasn’t his mother and it wasn’t Andrew. His thumb hovered over the decline button but then he decided to take the call to see who it was. It could be vital information to know who exactly knew his number so they could make a plan how to escape.

He accepted the call and raised the phone to his ear without saying anything.

 

For a few seconds it was quiet on both ends, then, suddenly, a familiar voice.

 

“Hello? Neil?”

 

“Andrew?” Neil let out a long breath he didn’t realise he was holding. 

 

“Yes,” Andrew said.

 

“What’s this number? Did you get a new phone?”

 

“Of sorts, I guess.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“I’m calling from jail. They arrested and put me in juvie.” Andrew said it so matter-of-factly, Neil thought it was a joke at first. But he quickly realised it wasn’t.

Oh no. Did they find out about Tilda after all?

 

“What? What did you do?”

 

Andrew grumbled, then told Neil the story. Apparently he beat up four men for mocking and attacking his cousin during one of their shifts at Eden’s Twilight. He almost killed them.

They arrested him, brought him to court and now he was stuck at juvie for three years with intensive therapy and medication.

 

“You’re getting soft,” Neil teased. Andrew didn’t seem too happy about that. 

 

“What’s soft about almost killing four men?” He grunted.

 

“You did it because they insulted your cousin. Just a couple weeks ago you said you couldn’t stand him,” Neil hummed and took a sip of his coffee.

 

“I still can’t stand him.”

 

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

 

“Fuck off, Neil. I’m hanging up.”

 

“No, Andrew, wait.” Andrew did wait. Neil smiled to himself.

 

“How much time do you have for the call?” Andrew didn’t say anything for a while, probably figuring out how much time they had left.

 

“About three minutes.”

 

“Great. Tell me about juvie.”

 

Andrew hated it. Which was fair enough, juvie wasn’t something that was supposed to be enjoyable. But what he hated most wasn’t even being there. It was the mandatory therapy, he hated his shrink already, and the medication. It made him feel dizzy and weird for the first couple hours and then two hours before his next dose his stomach would cramp up.

The next time he called they had changed his medication. He still hated it.

 

During his time at juvie Andrew went through three therapists and five different medications, until they finally found the one that wouldn’t make him miserable. He still didn’t like being drugged up, for the first hour after taking the pill he’d still feel a bit dizzy and as if his head was full of cotton, but after that it would just make him calm. He didn’t get angry as quickly as before anymore and one time Andrew admitted to Neil he rather liked it. He hated his outbursts as much as the next guy. 

The only people visiting him in juvie were Aaron and Nicky. Not even Cass came to see him. She was supposed to adopt him just before he was arrested and now she didn’t even come see how he was doing. So Andrew decided not to go back to her and Drake when he was released.

 

*** 

 

Three weeks went by after Andrew’s release before Keith heard from him again. This time he wasn’t too worried, though. When his phone rang at 1am one night and Andrew’s old number flashed up on his screen he almost felt a bit of nostalgia as he went to accept the call.

 

“Hey there, Andrew,” he greeted him. He took a drag from his cigarette as he was sitting on the hood of their Volkswagen. 

 

“Hi,” Andrew replied.

 

“Welcome back to the land of the free,” Neil said sarcastically. Andrew scoffed. “So, what have you been up to in those past weeks?”

 

“I was offered a place on the Edgar Allan’s Ravens’ roster,” Andrew said coldly. Neil almost dropped his cigarette and an uncomfortable shudder went down his spine. 

 

“Oh. Wow. Did you say yes?”

 

“Of course not,” Andrew scoffed again in obvious disdain, “There’s no way I’d play with this fucking dickhead Riko.” Neil had rarely ever felt a rush of relief like this. There was no way he could’ve continued this if Andrew would be close to Riko Moriyama. He might as well have shot himself in the head.

 

“Good. He  _ is _ a dickhead. So what did you do instead?”

 

“I joined the PSU Foxes.” Neil blinked. Well, that was quite something different than the Ravens. Despite his mother’s clear opinion about Exy, Neil could never quite make himself stop keeping up with the newest Exy news. And the Foxes, well… They were the laughing stock of Class I Exy. They were a mess, a team full of junkies and delinquents. Why Andrew would want to play with them was beyond Neil.

 

“They offered us a place.”

 

“Us?” Neil asked, one eyebrow raised.

 

“Me, Aaron and Nicky.”

 

“ _ Oh. _ ” Neil’s other eyebrow shot up as well before a smirk spread on his lips that Andrew luckily couldn’t see. “You  _ are _ getting soft.”

 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

 

Neil just chuckled and Andrew threatened to hang up. 

 

***

 

Over the next year Keith, Colin, Brian was even less able to stop checking Exy news, especially about the PSU’s Foxes. The first time he saw an article about “The Foxes’ deadliest investment” with the picture of an angry looking, blond young man with a sharp jaw and even sharper brown eyes he couldn’t stop staring at it for a full ten minutes. Andrew. This was Andrew, the boy he had been talking to for the past 6 years without even knowing what he looked like. He looked nothing like he had imagined him but at the same time what he imagined suddenly seemed so silly when that image of Andrew was just so  _ Andrew _ it seemed impossible he ever thought he might look different.

 

The first time he saw Andrew play was in a rundown diner in South Dakota. Him and Mary were having dinner and there was an old TV hanging in one corner where they were broadcasting Class I Exy games on silent. It was Palmetto State University vs. Breckenridge Jackals. The Jackals were clear favourites and destroyed the Foxes’ defense line time and time again. But despite their obvious upper hand they barely scored. Whenever one of the Jackals took a shot at goal Andrew would block them without even looking like he made an effort. It made Brian’s heart beat faster and his fingers itch.

 

He read the news about Kevin Day’s skiing accident. He missed the rumors about a new player joining the Foxes.

 

***

 

A year had passed since Andrew joined the Foxes and Jamie and Mary were on the run still. They had run into his father in Philadelphia. They made it out. Somehow. They went through Maryland to Virginia. His mother was bleeding but she kept telling him they had no time to stop and tend to her wounds. They had to get away. Far. And quick. Jamie was panicking ever since they ran into Nathan. He still shuddered when he remembered his voice calling out his birth name. He almost vomited every time he remembered him hitting his mother with a pipe. 

 

His mother made Jamie stop at a beach. She was breathing hard, pressing a hand to where she was hit the hardest. 

 

“Nathaniel,” she gasped, pain clear in her voice and she winced.

 

“Yes?” Nathaniel gasped, already looking for the first-aid box. It had to be  _ somewhere _ here-

 

“Stop,” she grunted and Nathaniel stopped dead in his tracks, “Do you remember our rules?”

Nathaniel nodded.

“Say them. Now.”

 

It was hard to focus but Mary’s rules were anchored so deep in his mind, it took him mere seconds to remember them all and count them off on his fingers. Mary nodded when he was done, pleased with his answer.

 

“Don’t forget them,” she said through gritted teeth.

 

“I won’t but--”

 

“Nathaniel,” she said sharply and grabbed one of his hands, “Do not...forget them.” 

Mary squeezed his hand. Nathaniel took a shuddering breath.

 

“Mummy,” he begged, “Please let me- Let me-- I can try to-”

 

“No,” she shook her head weakly, “You can’t. The bleeding is internal. Promise me to keep going. Don’t let him get you.”

 

A sob ripped through Nathaniel. It was grief and panic and fear. 

 

“I promise,” he said shakily. Mary nodded again. Her eyelids started to flutter and her breathing became shallow, ragged. Nathaniel could see how she faded away until she took a last, pained breath. Then she stopped. Just…stopped. Her hand slipped from his and hit the leather seat beneath her. Another sob ripped through him and Nathaniel buried his face in his hands.

 

He was as good as dead. There was no way he could do this without his mother. 

 

Nathaniel allowed himself to cry for a few minutes. He grieved for his mother, despite how much he hated her all through his life she always kept him safe and alive. He grieved and he was scared and alone. 

When he tried to lift her corpse, a sickening noise of dried blood clinging to the leather seat broke the silence and Neil fled the car, thinking he’d throw up. He barely managed not to. 

 

There was nothing he could do. He promised his mother to follow her rules. On unsteady legs he went to the trunk of the car, retrieved his duffle bag and a container full of gasoline. Nathaniel was almost surprised how little time it took to empty the container over and inside the car. He couldn’t leave any traces so he threw the plastic container inside the car as well. Then he threw a lit up match inside, too.

 

The car caught on fire so quickly, Nathaniel stumbled back and fell into the sand on his back. He scrambled up until he was sitting on his knees, watching the fire burn down the car and his mother’s corpse. Only then did he allow himself to cry again.

 

He had no idea where he would go now, what he would do. He had no one. Only himself and the constant fear of death. 

The smell of the smoke was sickening and the heat of the fire burnt in his face, but he didn’t turn away. 

But that wasn’t true, was it? He did have someone. One person he could turn to. One person who would at least listen to him, even if he couldn’t help him.

 

Nathaniel pulled his mobile phone from his jeans’ pockets, dialed the oh-so-familiar number and pressed the phone to his ear with a shaking hand.

 

***

 

Andrew leaned against his racquet, watching the others with a bored expression. Kevin was shouting at him to actually do something, but Andrew had no interest whatsoever to be productive today. Especially not when he could rile Kevin up like this by being passive.

 

He startled when his phone went off all of a sudden, but he relished the annoyed look on Kevin’s face. Only to annoy him even more, Andrew took his gloves off and fished for his phone in his shorts.

  
“Andrew!” Kevin yelled outraged when he pulled it from his pockets, “Put that fucking phone back and guard your goal!”

 

Andrew just flipped him off, then looked at the screen of his phone. He ripped his helmet off when he saw the Name on the display.

 

_ Neil is calling. _

 

It was the first time Neil called him, Andrew realised. In the past six years, it had always been him calling Neil, never the other way around. Andrew had no idea what prompted this change, but he had a bad feeling about it.

 

“Neil?” Kevin yelled some more in the background, but Andrew just turned his back to him.

 

“Andrew,” Neil sounded breathless. Panicked. His voice cracking. “Andrew, I--”

 

“Neil, what happened?”

 

“I have to tell you something,” Neil sobbed and Andrew’s whole chest tightened at the sound. Neil didn’t say anything and just took a couple ragged breaths. Andrew gave him ten seconds before he prompted: “What is it? What’s wrong?”

 

“I--,” Neil stammered, “I’m not who you think I am.”

 

Andrew frowned. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

 

“What?”

 

“I’m on the run. My father is a very, very bad man and my mother took me nine years ago to be save from him. But you can't outrun him, you can't, you can't, so we've always been on the run. That's why I had so much time, why I could always talk. But...he found us. He killed my mother. We could get away but she died a couple hours later and I just burnt our car down with her dead body inside and-..I-....I-I-I just don't know.....I don't know what to do. I can't do this on my own. I don't even know where to go, I--”   
  
“Neil!” Neil stopped immediately when Andrew called out his name. He was breathing harsh and quick. Andrew recognised the panic attack even through the phone. “Where are you?”

 

“V- Virginia,” Neil stuttered, “Somewhere near Norfolk. It’s a beach, I don’t know-- I didn’t really look, we were just trying to get away, I--”

 

“Listen to me.” Andrew turned back and ignored the confused but at the same time angry face of Kevin. Everyone had stopped, watching him, but Andrew didn't care. He started to make his way to the plexiglass walls of the court. “Get somewhere save, then text me your exact whereabouts. I'm coming to get you.”

 

“What?!” Neil gasped. “You can't-”

 

“ _ Do it _ .” Before Neil could say anything else Andrew hung up. 

 

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Coach Wymack asked when Andrew smashed his fist into the plexiglass, demanding for the doors to be opened. 

 

“Leaving,” Andrew said, “Let me out.”

 

“Practice isn't over,” Wymack said, but opened the doors anyway. 

 

“It is for me,” Andrew replied. 

 

“Where are you going? Andrew!” Wymack called after him. 

 

“I don't know!” Andrew called back, throwing his hands in the air before vanishing inside the locker room. 

 

***

 

Nathaniel watched until the fire died down. He didn’t know how long it took. The hardest part was to make himself get up and dig for the bones of his mother in the ashes once they cooled down a bit. He wasn’t even disgusted. He only felt grief. He buried her a mile down the beach, her bones stuffed in a backpack. Then he just fell into the sand and stared into the sky. Maybe he’d just stay here. Right here. And wait for his father to find and kill him. 

 

But no. He couldn't do that. Andrew promised to come and get him. So he made himself get up and walk away. He didn't dare to look back, fearing he might just stay after all if he did. 

Nathaniel walked down the highway until he found an old, shabby bed and breakfast. First he thought it was closed down, but then he saw flashing LED lights advertising vacant rooms. 

The lady at the reception eyed him warily when he entered, half his face covered by the hood of an oversized hoodie he had thrown on to hide the blood splattered all over his t-shirt. She still handed him the keys to a room when he paid in cash. 

Nathaniel locked himself inside the room, ripped off the hoodie and texted Andrew the name of the place. Then he sat down on the bed, turned on the TV and stared at the screen without really paying it any attention. 

 

***

 

Andrew was already on the highway in the rough direction of Norfolk when he got Neil's text. It said nothing but the name, address and room number of a b&b on the 264 between Norfolk and Portsmouth. Knowing where he was headed to, Andrew kicked the gas pedal of his car and rushed to where Neil was waiting for him. 

 

***

 

Nathaniel didn’t know how much time had passed. Was it ten minutes? Ten hours? Ten days? Probably not ten days. He didn’t even really care. He just stared at the TV screen without noticing what was playing, lost in his thoughts and memories. A knock on the door startled him out of his dissociative state and Nathaniel turned his head so quickly, a sharp pain in his neck made him wince and press a hand to it. His heart started to race. This was probably his father, here to finish what he couldn’t back in Seattle. Nathaniel froze on his spot, thoughts racing through his head, considering three different escape routes at the same time.

Another knock.

The bathroom window was too high up and too small for him to fit through. Besides, he didn’t know whether his father had people surrounding the building or not, so he might just run straight into their arms if he tried to leave through there. The front door wasn’t an option for obvious reasons. Maybe he could try the ventilation shafts. 

 

“Neil? Open the door.”

 

There was only one person in the world calling him Neil. And after six years of regular phone calls, he’d recognise his voice anywhere.

 

Quickly, despite his shaking legs, Neil scrambled off the bed and rushed to the front door. Even though technically he knew who was in front of the door he was still too paranoid to just open it. He left the door chain on and cracked the door open just enough to throw a glance outside. 

 

“Open the fucking door, dickhead,” Andrew grunted, arms crossed over his chest. Neil couldn’t believe he was really standing in front of him. He closed the door and took the chain off. His hands shook, his heart beat enough for Neil to think it was trying to escape his chest and he had to take a couple steadying breaths.

 

“Here goes nothing,” he whispered to himself before pressing the door handle down.

 

***

 

It took Andrew a bit over four hours to get to the bed and breakfast Neil was at. He only took breaks to pump gas and have a piss and smoked a whole pack of cigarettes on his way there. When he arrived at a shabby, rundown b&b in the middle of fucking nowhere, Andrew parked his car as close to the entrance as possible and went straight for the room Neil told him.

 

His first knock stayed unanswered. Andrew double-checked the room number. Then he knocked again.

 

When Neil finally opened the door, it was merely an inch and Andrew didn’t see anything through it.

“Open the fucking door, dickhead,” he grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. Neil didn’t answer, but closed the door and Andrew could hear the chain rattle as it was taken off. Neil took another few seconds before the lock eventually clicked and the door was opened enough for him to step through. Andrew sighed, a bit wary, but went inside nevertheless. Immediately the door was closed behind him, the chain put back an on and the lock turned, and when he turned around--

 

There he was.

 

A boy, just a couple inches taller than Andrew. Auburn curls and ice cold blue eyes with dark circles underneath, his shirt and arms and hands still covered in already dried blood, squeezing his hands in a nervous way. He stared at Andrew out of big eyes, looking like he couldn’t quite believe he was really there. And, honestly, that was fair. Andrew couldn’t quite believe it either. They just stared at each other for what felt like forever until Neil whispered his name, voice shaky and broken. Andrew reached out to him, holding out his hand, palm up. Inviting. Neil took his hand, it felt cold against Andrew’s skin, then grabbed his shirt with his other hand. He stumbled two unsteady steps forwards, against Andrew’s chest, then he just broke down with a heart-wrenching sob.

 

An uncomfortable shudder went through Andrew’s body at the touches, but he still curled his arms around Neil’s waist to keep him from falling.

“Hey, hey,” he said, pulling Neil over to the bed and sitting him down. Neil clung to him, shaking, sobbing, looking miserable. Andrew’s chest tightened and the uncomfortable feeling from the sudden touch made room for something else. Andrew refused to call it worry.

He grabbed Neil’s chin and forced him to look up, into Andrew’s eyes.

“Neil, look at me,” he demanded. Neil swallowed hard, but didn’t avert his eyes. “Calm down. Go wash up and put something on that isn’t gross. We’re leaving.”

 

“What?” Neil whimpered, “Where are we going? We can’t- I can’t-- I can’t go with you, they’re gonna find us and then they’re gonna kill us both--”

 

“Shut the fuck up. I didn’t drive all the way up here to leave you here, okay? You’re coming with me, at least for now. Then you can still decide if you wanna leave again. But you’ve got nowhere else to go anyway, so who cares. It’ll get you four hours away from here. Gives you a bit of a head start.”

 

Neil stared at him for so long, Andrew thought he’d decline again. But eventually he nodded. Good. Andrew helped him get to his feet, then watched as Neil rummaged through a duffel bag and pulled some fresh clothes from it that looked like they were older than them.

As soon as he heard the shower running, Andrew sat down on the bed, took a deep breath and rubbed a hand through his face. He was exhausted from the drive here, but they had no time to waste. He could really use a shot of Whiskey now. Instead Andrew pulled the bottle of medication from his jeans’ pocket and swallowed one of the pills. He already missed the time for his dose while he was driving and started to feel sick.

 

How did he always get himself in these situations? First Kevin, now Neil. It was as if he was destined to save the asses of idiots who got themselves in all sorts of stupid danger. And, fuck, why were all these idiots cute?

 

Okay. No. Andrew, no. This wasn’t the time to be gay.

 

The shower stopped just a couple minutes later and it didn’t take Neil long to come back out. He still looked tired, but at least he wasn’t covered in his dead mother’s blood anymore. Small steps. Still, his clothes were at least two sizes too big and saying they were out of fashion would still be too nice. But Andrew had other concerns right now.

Neil combed a hand through his wet curls and looked at Andrew uncertainly.

  
“Grab your stuff,” Andrew said and got off the bed. Neil grabbed the duffel bag. Andrew waited. So did Neil.

  
“Is that it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Andrew raised an eyebrow.

 

“When you’re on the run you can’t really have much. I had to be able to fit my things in here. Everything else was left behind. But it’s enough, I don’t need more.”

 

“Sure,” Andrew huffed, “We’ll see about that.” Neil frowned at him, but Andrew just turned to the door. Before he could open it, Neil gasped ‘Wait!’ and grabbed his wrist. Andrew looked at their hands, then at Neil.    
“We can’t just walk out like that. We have to check if someone’s there.”

 

Andrew rolled his eyes, but gestured for Neil to open the door. Neil unlocked it, then threw a wary glance outside. When he was satisfied that no one was watching them he made a first, unsteady step outside. Andrew followed him, then guided him to his car.

 

Neil kept checking whether someone followed them throughout the full four hour ride back to Palmetto. Despite how tired he obviously was, he couldn’t go to sleep - he was too paranoid. Andrew let him. They shared his cigarettes and spent most of the drive listening to music. Every now and then Neil would tell him a bit about the past nine years, where they went, what those places looked like, how it was living there. He never said anything about his father though, except the fact that he was dangerous.

 

It was late already when they arrived back at Foxtower. The sun had gone down long ago, but most of the students living there didn’t go to sleep yet. So when they reached the floor occupied by the Foxes, Andrew wasn’t really surprised to meet two of his teammates there, but he had hoped to avoid them.

 

“Who the fuck is that?” Allison asked, raising an eyebrow and pointing a finger at Neil, who promptly hid behind Andrew. Andrew felt Neil grabbing the hem of his shirt, but didn’t do anything about it. Instead he stared Allison down.

“None of your fucking business.”   
  
Renee, who was standing by Allison’s side, smiled her usual gentle smile. She was lucky he liked her, otherwise he’d be fighting the urge to punch it off her face.

 

“A friend, Andrew?” She asked, before looking past his shoulder at Neil, “Nice to meet you, I’m Renee.” Neil didn’t answer. Andrew threw him a glance, then worked at unlocking his dorm room.

 

“Is he mute or just stupid?” Allison asked and Renee tutted at her. Neither Neil nor Andrew gave her an answer.

Andrew unlocked the door and waved Neil inside. He pressed a hand to the small of his back to push him in a bit quicker, then closed the door behind them. 

“You’re going to stay here for now an--”

 

“Andrew?!” As soon as the door clicked shut, Andrew heard Kevin’s angry voice from the kitchen and he rolled his eyes, “This better be you, Andrew, and I hope to God you have a good explanation for your behav--”

 

Suddenly, Kevin stopped in his words and Neil gasped. Andrew turned to look what was happening. Neil took three hurried steps back until he bumped into Andrew’s chest, but he didn’t even look, he just stared at Kevin, wide-eyed and scared.

 

“You,” Neil said, voice shaking, “ _ You _ . No, no, no, not you, not  _ you _ !”

 

“What’s happening?” Andrew asked. Neil just turned and looked at Andrew with panic in his eyes.

“Andrew, get me away from here.  _ Now _ .”

 

“What?”   
  
“Get me away from him!!”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

Eventually Kevin found his voice again. There was wonder and fear at the same time in it. “You?”

 

“Get me away  _ now _ !”

 

“Is it really you, Nath-”

 

“ _ NO _ !” Neil almost screamed, threw his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, shaking his head from side to side as if that could shake Kevin’s words off of him. “Don’t, don’t call me by that name. Don’t!!” He pushed past Andrew and stumbled towards the door, crashed into it with his shoulder and then slid down until he was sitting on the floor, burying his head between his knees.

 

“Kevin, what the fuck is going on?” Andrew demanded, but Kevin just stared on in shock. Aaron and Nicky were watching in wonder, Aaron from his place on the beanbag, Nicky from the bedroom door. 

Andrew looked back to where Neil was cowering. His head hung low between his knees, his hands buried in his hair.

“I’m sorry, Mummy,” he mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

 

Andrew had no idea what was going on, but he knew he needed to get Neil out of here right now. With one last look at Kevin he went over to where Neil was sitting on the floor and grabbed him by the shoulders. Immediately, Neil fought him off and his head shot up, panicked, panting. Andrew could see in his face that it took him a second to realise it was Andrew, and his shoulders relaxed as soon as he noticed.

 

“Get up,” Andrew said, “We’re going.” He pulled Neil to his feet, opened the door and pushed him out. Neil clung to him, begging him to get him away from Kevin. The shouts coming from the Monsters’ dorm had lured the others out of their rooms, too, and Allison was watching them with a raised eyebrow, pressed up against Seth’s side.

 

“What’s going on? Who is that, Andrew?” Dan demanded, but Andrew didn’t spare her any attention. Instead, he dragged Neil along the hallway to the door that lead up to the roof.

  
“Andrew!” Dan shouted after him, unsuccessfully. 

 

Neil still hadn’t calmed down when they reached the roof. He had another panic attack, and if Andrew wouldn’t do anything he probably wouldn’t calm down for a long while.

 

“Neil!” He said and grabbed his face with both hands, directing his stare to Andrew’s eyes, “Look at me. Kevin’s not here, it’s just you and me. Calm down. No one will hurt you here.”

 

“But it’s  _ him _ ,” Neil was still not calming down. Instead he grabbed Andrew’s sleeves and pulled at them, a plea in his eyes that Andrew couldn’t quite interpret. “He saw me. He’s going to tell them. They’re going to know where I am and they’ll find me and kill me.”

 

“Who are ‘they’?!” Andrew snapped and immediately regretted it when Neil winced. “Who are they?” He repeated, calmer this time.

  
“The Moriyamas,” Neil said. Andrew stared at him. He crumbled in Andrew’s hands; he started to cry, his shoulders sank, his knees gave up. Slowly, Andrew let Neil down until he was sitting and went to his knees in front of him. “I promised Mummy not to let them find me. But now I ran right into their arms and there’s nothing I can do about it. If they won’t come to kill me they’re going to send my father and I honestly don’t know which is worse.” Tears ran down Neil’s face as he was looking at Andrew with a look of pure despair. 

 

“Of course,” Andrew ran a hand through his hair. Why was he even surprised about this turn of events?

Neil shook his head, an unspoken question about the meaning of Andrew’s words.

 

“Of course you’re involved with the fucking Moriyamas. Because what else. As if one idiot wrecked by the Moriyamas wasn’t enough.” All of this, it reminded him of when Kevin joined the Foxes. A broken boy, quite literally in Kevin’s case, scared and paranoid looking for refuge from the hell that was his life. Fearing for his safety, haunted by a life in the dark just because he was born into the wrong family. Everything in Andrew screamed for him to stand in front of Neil and shield him from what - or who - was coming to get him.

 

“Listen to me,” Andrew said and dried Neil’s tears with his sleeve, “No one is going to tell them where you are.”

 

“But Kevin--”

 

“ _ But Kevin _ isn’t a Raven anymore,” Andrew interrupted and Neil stared at him unbelievingly, “He fled, just like you, from a life that was out to destroy him. He’s a Fox and wouldn’t go anywhere near Riko and his entourage if given the choice.”

 

Finally, Neil started to calm down. He stared at Andrew, looking for a lie in his features but couldn’t find anything. Andrew sat down properly next to him, fished his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up, then offered it to Neil. After a second of hesitation he took it, so Andrew lit another one for himself. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, just silently sitting side by side until Andrew flicked the butt of his cigarette off the roof.

 

“Now tell me the truth,” he said and glanced at Neil through the corner of his eyes, “What’s your deal with the Moriyamas?” Neil’s breath stuttered immediately and he clenched his jaw. He took a long, last drag from the cigarette, then stubbed it out on the ground next to him.

 

They spent a long time on the roof, Neil telling Andrew about his father, the Butcher of Baltimore, about how he tried out for the Raven’s as a child and met Kevin and Riko, but his mother fled with him before he even made it to the second tryouts, about their time on the run and about her death only mere hours ago. 

After that, they just sat in silence again. Andrew didn’t comment on it and Neil didn’t add anything. Eventually, Neil’s head hit Andrew’s shoulder. When Andrew looked down he saw he fell asleep, exhaustion finally taking over him. He lit another cigarette and smoked it.

 

***

 

Kevin was still awake when Andrew returned to the dorm, a sleeping Neil in his arm. He frowned, confused and scared, but Andrew just rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you piss your panties, too, Day,” he grunted.

 

Kevin looked offended.

 

“I have every right to wonder why you bring the Butcher’s son Nathaniel Wesninski here,” he hissed angrily. Andrew threw him a look that made him flinch.

 

Nathaniel Wesninski. 

 

Andrew looked at the boy in his arms who still hadn’t given him any other name than the one he gave him six years ago.

 

No. His name was Neil.

 

“I don’t think you have the right to deny someone refuge who’s running from his past, do you?” Andrew asked coldly. Kevin grimaced. He got up from his seat with an angry expression, but Andrew just stared back at him with a bored one. 

 

“I hope he’s worth it, Andrew,” Kevin said. Andrew lowered his eyes at him in return.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” But Kevin didn’t answer. Instead he shook his head and turned to go to the bedroom.

 

***

 

When Nathaniel woke up everything was dark around him. He shot up, looking around frantically, but through the dark he could merely make out shapes and silhouettes and a digital clock on a night stand reading 3.32am. There were several beds in the room and all of them were occupied by sleeping forms. He had no idea where he was. Immediately, his instincts told him to get out of there.

 

As quiet as he could, Nathaniel slid out of the bed and almost stepped on his duffel bag. Relieved he took it, checked it for its contents and then sneaked towards the door he could only make out thanks to the slither of light coming through underneath it.

He squinted against the light as he stepped out of the room. This room, however, he recognised.

 

“Go back to sleep, it’s the middle of the night.”

 

Nathaniel jumped and turned towards the voice, and was greeted by Andrew, sitting on a desk next to an open window, smoking a cigarette. He was back in the dorm and the people sleeping in the bedroom were its occupants: Kevin, Andrew’s brother Aaron and his cousin Nicky. So the bed he had been sleeping in must’ve been Andrew’s. 

Nathaniel grabbed the strap of his bag a bit firmer. Andrew’s eyes looked down at his hand, then back up at his face. A cigarette was dangling from between his lips.

 

“I have to go,” Nathaniel said quietly, “I can’t stay. Even if Kevin is not with the Ravens anymore. They’re going to find me and then they will kill me.”

Andrew considered him for a while and tilted his head to the side. He took a long drag from the cigarette and flicked the ash out of the window. 

 

“Stay.” Andrew said. Nathaniel blinked, surprised.

 

“Andrew, I can’t--”

 

“Stay, and I promise nothing will happen to you.”

 

“What?” If only it was that easy. Nathaniel would give everything to stay here, with Andrew. But his life was never easy.

 

“I gave the same promise to Kevin. Stay and nothing will happen to you. If you’re with the Foxes they can’t just kill you. People will know you, will know your face and your name and would notice if you suddenly disappeared. Even the Moriyamas can’t risk that.”

 

It sounded too good to be true - because it was. Nathaniel knew he couldn’t just stay and hope the spotlight would hide him. His mother would beat him to death for even considering this, if she was still alive. Andrew finished the cigarette.

 

“Give your back to me,” he said, “And I will stand between you and them.”

 

Nathaniel clenched his jaw, and his fist around the strap of his bag. He wanted to. He wanted to stay, he wanted, he wanted, he-

 

“Neil.”

 

Neil dropped his bag. 

He wanted. He needed. He would. His mother would turn in her sandy grave if she knew, but this was his life and even though it would be short if he stayed - because he knew it would - for once, he needed to do something he wanted, he needed. 

Neil walked over to the desk and Andrew pulled his feet back, making room for him to climb on it, too. Then he lit a cigarette for him. Their fingers brushed as Neil took it from him, and both boys stopped. For a second it felt like Neil couldn’t breath. Careful, Andrew curled his fingers around his wrist. Neil let him. Andrew pulled him in. Neil let him.

 

Andrew’s lips were warm and dry and rough. They felt forbidden in the best of ways and tasted of whiskey and cigarettes. 

Andrew kissed him like he was a dying man and Neil was the life he was clinging to. He buried his hand in Neil’s curls, pulling him closer, grazing his nails across his scalp and Neil forgot how to breath. His wrist was still in Andrew’s grip but he lead it to his shoulder, so Neil could brace himself against it. He could feel Andrew’s warmth seeping through his clothes and ran his thumb along his collarbone. Andrew shuddered, so Neil did it again. 

 

When they broke apart Neil gasped for air, relearning how to breath, his eyes still closed. They were barely an inch apart, their foreheads almost touching, Andrew’s scent still lingering in Neil’s nose.

 

“Don’t,” Neil whispered against Andrew’s lips and opened his eyes. Andrew opened his, too, to look at Neil. “I’m going to die soon. Don’t love me back. I don’t want to be one of those who hurt you.”

 

Andrew kissed him again.

 

***

 

Hours later they were still sitting on the desk by the window. The sun had long risen when someone popped their head out of the bedroom.

 

“Hey, uh… We’re awake. Is it okay to come out? Or is there gonna be another panic attack?” Nicky grinned at Andrew and Neil. Neil almost choked on the smoke in his lungs when he looked at him.

 

_ Oh _ .

 

Nicky, on the other hand, didn’t seem to recognise him. Which, really, wasn’t a surprise, considering back in Germany, when they went to the same school, Neil had very short black hair and green eyes and was a lot younger, despite him pretending to be 18 years old.

 

“Do whatever the fuck you want,” Andrew said.

 

“Okay,” Nicky didn’t seem to mind his annoyed voice and just left the bedroom. Behind him, Kevin and Aaron followed short, both of them eyeing Neil warily, but for completely different reasons. Neil just looked back at them blankly.

 

“So what are we supposed to call you, then?” Kevin asked and crossed his arms. Neil lowered his eyes at him and Nicky looked to and fro between them, confused.

 

“Neil.” Andrew said in his stead, “His name is Neil.” 

  
Kevin snorted, then turned and went to the kitchen instead. Neil took a drag of his cigarette to keep himself from shouting something mean after him.

“And where on earth did Andrew pick you up? I never heard anything about a Neil before,” Aaron asked, obviously not pleased with someone new around. But before anyone was able to answer that question, there was a knock on the door.

 

“Oh, wonderful, just on time,” Andrew hummed, flicked the cigarette out of the window and jumped off the desk. Neil, Nicky and Aaron followed him with their eyes, neither of them knowing what Andrew was on about now. Even Kevin popped his head out the kitchen to see who was at the door. 

 

Andrew opened the door to reveal Coach David Wymack. 

He looked at Andrew, one eyebrow raised.

 

“You better didn’t fuck with me when you sent me a text at 3am this morning,” he grumbled.

 

“I would never,” Andrew hummed with a fake smile. Wymack rolled his eyes.

 

“So where’s that new striker you were going on about?”   
  


Neil’s eyes went wide. He could feel Kevin, Nicky and Aaron staring a hole into his head.

“What?” All four of them said at the same time.

Andrew lead Wymack into the room and immediately his eyes fell on Neil, sitting on the desk.

 

“May I introduce you? Neil. Neil, Coach Wymack.” Andrew said, gesturing between them. Neil stared at the man like a deer in headlights.

 

“Neil who?” Wymack asked. Andrew threw Neil a glance, Neil looked back, slightly panicked.

  
“Well, looks like we’re gonna have to think about a last name - but first things first, right? I’d say let’s give that boy a racquet and see what he can do with that. Shall we?”

Wymack sighed a long, suffering sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Suddenly he looked like he aged ten years in the past three seconds. 

 

“Great,” he mumbled, “Alright. I’ll trust you, Andrew-”

 

“How touching.” Andrew said sarcastically.

 

“-But you,” he pointed a finger at Neil who flinched immediately. Wymack lowered his finger when he noticed. “After we’re done and if -  _ if _ \- I think you’d be a good addition to the team, the two of us are gonna have a long talk about who you are and where you’re from. And when I decide you’re still worth my time you’re gonna tell that story to the team and they decide whether they want you or not. I’m not going to risk the safety of my team for a boy who stumbled his way into Foxtower. You hear me?”

 

Neil looked at Wymack, then at Andrew. This was Andrew offering him to stay. Now he needed to decide if he was really ready to give him his back or not.

 

“This is ridiculous,” Aaron said, “We don’t even know who the fuck he is!”

 

“That’s why I just said I’m going to have a long talk with him, Aaron, learn to listen to what I say.”

 

“Okay.” Neil said. Aaron and Kevin threw him disbelieving looks, but he ignored them and slid off the desk.

 

“Good,” Wymack nodded and gestured for him to follow, “And no fibbing. I want the truth and nothing else.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

“God, I’m not 100 years old, don’t fucking call me Sir. It’s Coach.”

 

“Yes, Coach,” Neil said. Wymack sighed.

  
“Kevin,” he prompted and looked at him expectantly, “You’re coming with us to take a look at him.” Kevin didn’t seem happy, but he didn’t refuse either.

“Andrew, you too. You’re going to be in goal. And I don’t wanna hear any moaning about it, he’s your proposal.”

 

“Yes, Coach,” Andrew said and saluted. Wymack rubbed his forehead.

 

“How do I deserve this,” he mumbled to himself before turning around and leaving the room.

When Neil followed him outside, walking behind Kevin and next to Andrew, he noticed the people gathering in the hall. It were the same people he remembered from yesterday, who were watching him being dragged out of the dorm room by Andrew. 

 

“What’s going on, Coach?” Dan Wilds asked, eyeing everyone leaving the room sceptically. Wymack looked at Neil, then at Dan.

 

“Andrew found someone who wants to try out for the striker position,” he said. Dan looked like he just told her Santa was real.

 

“What?” She asked and looked at Andrew and Neil, “Seriously?”

 

“If he’s as motivated as the Monster we could just put a stone in the position, Coach,” someone else from further back in the hallway shouted, his voice dripping with disdain. Neil felt every muscle in his body tense.

 

Wymack opened his mouth to say something, but Neil beat him to it.

 

“What did you say?”

 

Seth raised an eyebrow, visibly unconcerned by Neil’s sharp tone.

“I  _ said _ , if you play with the same motivation as the Monster, we might as well--” He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Neil might have not played Exy in a while, but in the past years he had fought men twice his size for his life, so sending Seth flying to the floor wasn’t a problem for him. Seth’s surprise gave him the upper hand and Neil didn’t hesitate before hitting him in the face, hard. It took a second for everyone to go from a state of shock to kick into action and before he could hit him again, three people pulled Neil off Seth and another two kept Seth from attacking him back. Neil struggled, but had no chance against Matt, Kevin and Nicky. Dan and Renee were holding back Seth, while Allison shouted a colourful string of curses at Neil. 

 

“Stop it right now!” Wymack shouted at both of them. “Jesus fucking Christ! Neil if you don’t stop right now your chances of becoming our new striker are gone. I don’t need people who attack my players. And Seth you fucking deserved that, you idiot, learn to shut your fucking mouth!” Neil stopped struggling but tried to free himself. When they were sure he wouldn’t just jump Seth again right away, Matt, Kevin and Nicky let go off him.

 

“Jeez,” Nicky breathed, looking at Neil in wonder. Matt smiled at him.

 

“Don’t take Seth’s words to heart, buddy, okay?” He said quietly and clapped a hand on his shoulder, “He’s an alright guy if you get to know him.” Neil huffed. Matt laughed.

“No, really,” he said, “But anyway. Try your best, yeah? We really need a new striker.”

 

Neil looked up at Matt and was met with a genuine smile. Neil didn’t know what to do with that and just nodded.

 

“Can we go now? Or does anyone want to ruin my morning some more?” Wymack asked. 

 

“We can go, Coach,” Neil mumbled. He returned to his spot right next to Andrew, who hadn’t moved at all throughout the whole ordeal. He looked at Neil, both eyebrows raised. Neither of them said anything, but Neil felt Andrew’s knuckles brush along his while they walked, and he couldn’t help the tiny smile that spread on his lips.

 

That evening, Neil officially moved into the same dorm as Matt and Seth - to both of their displeasure. He still needed to work hard to get to the level of skill the others were at, but Kevin had seen potential in him. Wymack heard his story and decided if he took in Kevin, he’d take in Neil as well. The team had agreed. Andrew had thought up the last name Josten for him. Neil decided to keep his middle name Abram. 

 

“Neil Abram Josten,” Neil mumbled and looked up when Andrew hummed next to him. 

“Sounds a lot more like you than what your parents decided to call you,” Andrew said as he stared into the sunset, his feet dangling off the rooftop edge. 

“Yeah. It does,” Neil agreed and rested his head on Andrew’s shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to visit me on [my tumblr](http://fox-sleeping-minyard.tumblr.com/) and chat with me! ♥


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